


Take me back

by TrashyAzeoHane



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Also there is my art, Amnesia, Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), At least he is trying, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Happens after season 5, M/M, Merlin is a good dad, Modern Era, Not Beta Read, Or well they remember their pasts, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Reincarnation, Slow Build, Slow Burn, So beware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashyAzeoHane/pseuds/TrashyAzeoHane
Summary: It was supposed to be Merlin waiting for Arthur, not the other way around. At least this was what Arthur had heard at the Lake of Avalon. This was what the Lady of the Lake had told him. But he was here, alive, thriving, breathing, with all his memories and close friends at his side.Arthur was here and Merlin was not. Something was wrong.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 89





	Take me back

For some people Arthur’s morning could be called mundane, but not for him.

Okay, maybe it was a little bit monotonous, but he liked it this way. There was a crispy touch of comfort that came with it, with knowing every step like the back of his hand. There was something refreshing in opening his eyes and not being crushed down by all the responsibilities that had hovered above his shoulders, just waiting for a perfect moment to pounce, anticipating the time when he would let his guard down to consume the mind.

No, there were no more heavy responsibilities. There were duties, but they were light, almost delicate, familiar and comforting in their repetitiveness.

Arthur liked mornings now.

(He hadn’t thought he would ever say it. There was definitely something missing in his brain, as Gwaine would nicely point out.)

So he stood up and started his day, following the unwritten plan - take a quick shower, brush the teeth, find some fresh clothes, try to tame his hair, grab the phone, keys and wallet. The usual. The familiar.

After the morning routine was finished, he walked down, moving towards the source of sounds and voices. And it was coming from the place below his apartment.

He opened the well-known door, finding peace in the lock jumping away as he pushed the handle down. And then he was stepping into the sweet smelling kitchen, filled to the brim with sounds and warmness that curled around the bones.

The radio was playing, letting the music swim around the kitchen. The turned on oven was humming. The pot on the cooker was boiling, hissing from time to time. The water in the coffee machine was huffing.

And there was Gwen, smiling and humming under her nose as she mixed things in a bowl, not caring that the mixer was blocking almost all the sounds. Or that there was a tornado of noises.

Arthur grabbed his apron, throwing it around his neck, and then, after tying it behind his back, he stepped next to her.

“Good morning, Guinevere.”

The girl jumped, making the mixer screech as it hit the wall of the bowl.

“Arthur! Don’t sneak up on me!” She shouted, swirling around to him and furrowing her eyebrows.

“Well, I wasn’t trying to, but it’s hard not to when it so loud in here.”

Gwen sighed and then turned off the mixer, letting the same smile return to her lips.

“Sorry, I overslept a little bit. Wanted to get everything done in time.”

Arthur moved towards the coffee machine, where his favourite mug had been already placed, now filled to the brim with coffee. Just how he liked it.

“Exhausting night with Lancelot?” Arthur asked, feeling the smirk tugging on his lips.

Gwen swatted his shoulder with a dishcloth.

“Arthur!” She shrieked, letting the red haze cover her cheeks.

Gladly he had stepped back in time as to not be hit by the vicious cloth, although he almost had spilled some of his drink. This definitely couldn’t do. It was his morning elixir, the only thing that pushed him forward during this hard time.

“What? Seriously, you should stop blushing like a twelve year old maiden after living with him for six years.”

“Not everyone has such debauched mind as you.”

Arthur raised his other hand, making another step back.

“I think my mind is totally fine. Gwaine’s one on the other hand…” He shuddered. “That is one debauched mind.”

Gwen opened her lips to retort back, letting the words curl in her throat, when there was a spark and she clamped her mouth shut.

“Yeah, okay maybe you’re right on this one.” She said in the end.

Arthur grinned. He loved to be the winner.

Gwen glared at him, putting both hands on her hips.

“Brush that smirk away from your face.” She said, angrily.

Or well, at least she tried to sound angry, probably, but the smear of flour on her cheek was preventing her from looking mad. That and the fact that it was hard to look dangerous in their aprons.

(They were supposedly really adorable, according to a lot of their customers. It hadn’t been Arthur who had picked them, to be honest. But they had paid for them, so they had to use them.)

Arthur, even if he wanted to, couldn’t simply brush the smirk away. Because Gwen’s angry look was making him grin even wider.

So they stood there, staring at each other, a clearly fighting stance in both their poses and minds, waiting for the other to say something, anything, when a low hiss interrupted their inner brawl.

Gwen snapped her eyes to the side and shouted.

“My milk!”

And that was somehow the end of the small fight.

When Gwen busied herself with pushing the pot away from the stove, Arthur took a sip of the coffee and exited the kitchen, walking towards the main part of his everyday life.

(If someone would have told him back in Camelot, that he would be working in a pastry shop, Arthur would probably have laughed out loud, brushing away a stray tear from his eye, and then would have sent the peasant or knight on their merry way. Maybe even with a gold coin for lifting up his mood with this incredible joke.

Guess this was his life now.)

Arthur flicked the lights, bathing the main parlor with light.

There was an echo of silence that enveloped him after that. It was weird, because he could still hear Gwen walking around the kitchen, the fridge buzzing, helping the cakes live through the night, the AC wheezing as it let the cool air dance around the room. And yet, it was the silence and calmness that hugged him right now, the steady rhythm of the beating heart when the world didn’t exactly wake up just yet.

He raked his eyes across the familiar floor, the known walls, filled with photos and colorful pictures, the tables that definitely needed cleaning before they could be open for guests, the cash register, where the numbers were already fading, but he still could remember happily pushing the buttons his mom had asked him to, and the cake display fridge, their heartful companion through so many years.

It was his life now and no matter how weird it sounded, he really loved it.

Especially calm mornings like this one. When everything was just right for a moment, a split second.

Arthur took a sip, put the cup down and then moved to start putting down the chairs from their resting places atop the tables.

Even the king had to work.

* * *

“Do you have your books?”

“Yes.”

“Pencil case?”

“Yep.”

“Lunch?”

“Already packed.”

“Water?”

“Dad!”

He halted in his ministrations as he corrected the small jacket, tugging on the collar to put it in place.

The boy standing in front stared at him for a moment, looking right into his eyes, only to let a small smile slip past his lips.

“Let’s go. I don’t want to be late for school.”

Merlin nodded, although he already felt three more question rolling across his tongue.

But Galahad had a point. It was already incredibly late and if they didn’t come out in a few minutes, they could be late. And being late meant being in the center of attention and he didn’t want that.

No.

But there was still one more question.

Merlin ducked his head and while looking sheepishly at the boy he asked.

“Your phone?”

The boy sighed.

“Already in my pocket.” And to prove his point, he even patted it a few times.

Merlin smiled and stood up from his kneeling position, feeling his knees jerk a few times. He looked over the boy one more time, checking that every part of the clothes was in place and wasn’t askew or sticking out. But no, everything was perfect.

He stretched his hand out.

“Ready?”

“I’ve been ready for the last five minutes.” Galahad answered, rolling his eyes a bit, but obediently grabbed the palm, squeezing the fingers and interlacing them in the end.

Merlin didn’t answer, but moved forward, towards the door, only to stop in front of the mirror hanging near it, showing them the perfect copy of their silhouettes, their faces, their hairs and their clothes. The thief of all their visible details.

He inhaled deeply.

“So? What’s the idea for today?” He asked.

Galahad furrowed his eyebrows, nibbling on his lip as thousand thoughts ran through his head.

Every day the same scheme and yet every day something new.

“I want to have brown hair, but longer! Blue eyes! And freckles!” A small pause. “Maybe less pointy ears.”

He sighed halfheartedly. This again.

(It wasn’t Galahad’s or Merlin’s fault. It was just genetics.)

“And this red jacket we saw last week!”

Easy enough.

“And me?” Merlin asked, glancing down at the small boy.

Galahad scrunched his nose again, letting an ocean of wrinkles appear on his nose.

“Blond! Curly hair! Brown eyes! Bigger nose!” He accented every word with a smile, swinging their connected hands back and forth. “And a different sweater.”

Merlin blinked.

“What’s wrong with this one?”

Galahad looked at him in the mirror, raising one eyebrow, like this one small movement could answer every question.

It didn’t. Although it also didn’t stop a pang of unfounded sadness from echoing through his chest, rippling the calm surface of his mind with shivering waves.

(Stop.)

“It’s ugly.” The boy finally said.

It wasn’t Merlin’s best sweater, but it wasn’t that terrible. Okay, maybe it was greatly out of style and it wasn’t as soft as it had used to be, but it was still comfortable enough for him to wear. Also it made him feel safe, more protected, better sheltered.

But what wouldn’t he do for his son? Galahad didn’t know how he felt about the sweater anyway.

He nodded in the end.

“Okay then. Are you ready?”

“Yep!”

And after that they closed their eyes.

He felt a soft nudge of the energy first, like a skittish animal, residing somewhere inside his body, looking behind the cave walls to check whether it was safe to go out or not. It looked at him, waiting for a sign that it was okay. And Merlin touched it, caressed, stroked delicately, brushing the fingers across the surface, showing that right now, in this very moment, it was okay to go out.

After that the energy, this power, didn’t need any more encouragement. It pounced and pranced and ran and jumped and leaped around his body, moved through his organs, sang in his bloodstream, mingled with his breath and drummed with his heart.

It was warm, welcoming, familiar and yet anew.

But Merlin had priorities, very important ones.

He tried to conjure the image Galahad had proposed to him, showing the way for the power to move, to show itself, pointing in the right directions.

And it shimmered, purred near his bones and nuzzled his skin, curling around the body, warming him from the inside to the very end of his fingertips. Happy to please, happy to move, happy to do something, happy to be free.

Merlin opened his eyes and couldn’t recognize himself anymore.

Galahad next to him still had his eyes closed, although Merlin could see that he managed to finish almost all of the changes to his appearance. The keyword was almost.

After a few more seconds, Galahad snapped his eyes open, the curly black hair now replaced with brown locks jumping around as he swung his head.

“What do you think?” Galahad asked, excitedly looking up at him.

Merlin hummed, tilting his head. With his free hand he nudged the energy to his fingers, letting it curl around the tips, and then he slowly brushed one auburn strand behind the ear, which immediately shrank.

Or at least to other people the ears looked smaller.

“You missed a spot.” He said.

Galahad pouted and then hung his head.

“I never can get the ears right.” He whined.

Merlin tugged his hand, directing them towards the door, letting a small snort to escape his lips.

“One day you will get it on a first try.”

The boy didn’t look like he believed him, but he followed him nevertheless.

The Sun welcomed their faces as they exited the building after defeating a few set of stairs. People sauntered around the street, walking fast or strolling slowly, glancing at their phones or looking straight forward, but not seeing anything.

It was easy to blend with the crowd at this hour. A small movement and they were already invisible to the world.

They walked quickly, methodically, swimming among the mass of people passing them by, invisible, but always a part of the wave, diving and never peeking above the surface.

It was good, the bigger the crowd, the easier it was for them to disappear.

What was needed was a small push, a sudden swirl, step behind this woman or that man and then they simply vanished.

They walked forward with Galahad obediently clenching his hand and Merlin looking around, trying to find any people who would look weird, out of place, unnatural in the busy morning routine, nudging the energy inside of him to help him search.

But there was no one suspicious.

First street, second street, third street, stopping near the crossroad, waiting for the light to turn green, then stepping forward.

When they were close enough to their destination, Merlin tugged his son in one alleyway, which would make the trip a bit longer, but was necessary. Here no one could see them, no one could see the spark in his eyes which Galahad often pointed out.

(Galahad called it magic. Merlin didn’t, couldn’t.)

And no one could see two different people emerging from the other side.

He pleaded the power inside of him to help and it did, gladly, happily, joyfully, ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks as it changed, morphed their appearances one more time.

Galahad surprisingly remained silent, even though he had to feel the sudden gust of warm wind on his skin too.

They emerged on the other side and jumped back into the stream of people minding their own businesses, hiding in their shadows and silhouettes, pretending to be invisible and hoping that the whole world would believe it.

(It had to.)

They walked one more street, collecting a few colorful leaves here and there, tying the shoelaces that got untied due to jumping above a sewer grate and then they were at their destination.

Merlin kneeled in front of his son, putting both hands on his shoulders and leaning closer to be audible above the throng of cheery voices shouting around them as the rest of the kids ran toward the school.

“Remember, if anything happens, call me.”

Galahad rolled his eyes.

“I know, dad.”

“And don’t go anywhere without me.”

“Yep, I remember.”

“And do not-“

“Dad!” Galahad shouted.

Merlin immediately shut his mouth.

There was a sound of soft shuffling and then the boy grabbed Merlin’s wrist, letting his thumb brush the skin gently, comforting and anchoring.

“I will be fine.” He said. “Don’t worry.”

Merlin couldn’t not worry. But nevertheless he couldn’t say it, so he only opted for a small nod, a hesitant grin, a quick hug and then he was standing up and pushing his son forward.

“Have a great day at school.”

Galahad swirled on his heel and waved at him.

“Yeah, see you later!”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the building, moving with the stream of the other kids.

Merlin stood there for a minute or so, staring, trying to find something, not exactly sure what, but just anything that would sooth his mind and soul.

Only when his heart gave a lurch, he turned on his heel and vanished into the crowd.

* * *

“Can I get a few more napkins?”

“Be right with you, ma’am.”

Arthur obediently placed more napkins in the holder.

“Can we get another refill on the coffee?”

“In a second.”

He poured the coffee into two cups.

“Where is the bathroom?”

“The first door on the right.”

The woman smiled at him.

It felt like it would never end. People came and came and came and it didn’t feel like they would stop coming.

(He knew it was good for the business, for him, but sometimes, for a moment, he just hoped to not hear that damn bell ring again, for everything to suddenly stop so he could brush his forehead with a clean cloth.)

But he was the boss here. And it didn’t matter that he was the ex-king, a job needed to be done.

It felt like an eternity had passed before his bones were allowed to rest, as he slumped down on a chair in the kitchen.

The customers were still sitting in the shop, but there were less of them and most of the morning ones had already left, leaving a few tables empty. The chatters still swam around, but no one was currently standing near the cash register, neither it looked like they needed anything.

So Arthur finally could take a break.

“I can see that we had a busy morning.” Gwen happily prompted, flicking a few droplets of water at him.

“Well, would be less busy if you could help at the front.”

“I can’t. Remember the order for two dozen macarons for three pm?”

Ah, Arthur totally forgot.

“Well, any help still would be nice.” He moaned, even though he knew it held no power.

Gwen looked at him, raising one eyebrow, but with a bit of sadness and guilt shimmering in her eyes.

“Sorry.” She said.

Arthur didn’t blame her. He just had to whine a lot, because dealing with it all was always easier out loud. Especially if it was Gwen who was listening to him. Although after some time even she couldn’t stand his grumbles, groans and comments here and there.

“No harm done. The order is important too.”

“On the bright side, Beatrice should be coming soon for her shift, so you’ll be free.”

“Finally.” He huffed.

Gwen glanced at him, but then returned to making the macarons.

Arthur knew he should help her, he wanted to help her, but in the same time he had to take a break, spend a few minutes breathing deeply, feeling his chest expand under the strain of the muscles being used too much.

Who knew working in the pastry shop could be so exhausting?

Gwen hummed to herself as she approached the oven and glanced inside, nodding to herself, clearly happy with the outcoming results.

She walked elegantly around the kitchen, yet with a hint of joy to her movements, stretching her hands and fiddling with the equipment with some kind of delicacy and softness that made the place more mesmerizing.

It was just baking, but somehow it felt like magic to Arthur.

And it always reminded him of home – of Camelot.

(No. He shook his head. Camelot wasn’t his home anymore. It hadn’t been for a pretty long time. Yet when he observed Gwen walking around, clearly knowing what to do, he couldn’t not see the serving girl from several hundred years ago.)

“Lance got a promotion.”

“He did?” Arthur absentmindedly asked, not hiding that he was looking at the girl.

Not in the affectionate way, no. She was his dear friend, but that was all Gwen was right now. The incredible friend. And Arthur was okay with that. No, more than that, he wanted for her to be his friend, nothing more.

“Yeah. His hard work finally paid off.”

“That’s amazing!” And it really was. “Are you planning to celebrate it somehow?”

Gwen shrugged.

“Lance didn’t tell me anything, but I’m thinking of taking him out for dinner this weekend.”

Arthur smiled at her.

“You totally should do that. I know a guy who has an incredible Mexican restaurant five streets away from here. I can give you his number.” He leaned forward, bending his back which was right now killing him.

And he wasn’t even that old, thank you very much.

“Oh, that would be amazing!”

Arthur took out his phone, found the correct contact info and sent it to Gwen’s mobile, which peeped happily from behind the apron.

“Here you go.” He stated and then put the phone on the counter. “Tell him you know me. He will give you the best seats.”

Gwen looked at him, grinning from ear to ear, making the stars shimmer in her deep eyes and a light blush to spread like snow on her freckled cheeks.

“Thank you, Arthur.”

He felt his chest squeeze and expand, burst like a supernova, only to collapse into itself as a sudden wave of memories enveloped his heart.

(The same smile, no, not the same, not her smile, someone else’s smile - brighter, broader, yet delicate and soft, shimmering like the Northern lights, captivating, endearing, smile that could make his chest flutter and wash all the problems away…)

Arthur’s breath hitched and he covered it with a cough.

“No problem. You deserve a break. You help me so much around here.”

“Oh, Arthur…” Gwen gently started, looking at him with mirth still dancing in her eyes, but also with a hint of nostalgia of lives that already had ended long time ago and the remaining memories that still plagued their days. But then the smile was replaced by an impish smirk and an evil glint. “You should have been so open back then. It would save us all a lot of worry and time.”

“Well, hard to be open when you’re the king.” Arthur mused back, raising his eyebrow. “It’s an easy way to get manipulated.”

“Then I’m glad you’re not the king anymore.” Gwen continued, looking at him. “You look happier now.”

(The fact that he didn’t have thousands lives on his shoulders and conscience every day clearly helped.)

But what Gwen had said was true. He was happier. He had loved Camelot, he still did, but he must admit that he also loved his new life. It was different, astonishingly so, almost like his whole past life had been turned upside down.

“I am.” Arthur admitted. “Or well I will be once–”

The words scratched his throat, halting in their journey and then crashed down, right towards the bottom of his stomach, making it twist painfully inside the body.

It was a conversation they already had had a thousand, if not more, times. Over and over again, with different people, throwing around speculations, possibilities, memories, pushing the gears, coming up with ideas–

Still with the same results.

It just frustrated him and pained, both in the same time.

Gwen stopped moving her hands, which had been whipping the cream, to glance at him, the worried crease adorning her forehead.

He could see the pain and ache that thrummed through her eyes at the soft mention, at the hesitant reminder, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Gwen inhaled deeply, bracing her shoulders and looking up at him with focus so intense that it could cut any stone in half. And then, in one swift movement, she clutched the hand he had been keeping on the counter, gripping it tightly for a moment.

“We will find him, Arthur.” She said, promised and gave her word.

And he stared at her, trying to memorize the pure certainty that was radiating off her.

He wished he could be so certain, instead he was plagued by the possibilities and dark outcomes that didn’t want to leave his mind.

Nevertheless he nodded, gripping her palm back.

“I know.”

And then she moved away, keeping a watchful gaze from time to time on his tired silhouette. A protector, a knight on duty, watching, waiting for a movement to take out a shield and a sword.

Arthur snickered under his nose.

Well, how the tables had turned.

* * *

He had a bad feeling. There was this weird echo, a string shimmering somewhere inside his chest, a delicate touch of a hand on his shoulder that pushed him away from the course.

He had a bad feeling and his gut never failed him.

“Dad!”

Nevertheless Merlin couldn’t stop the smile from bursting on his lips as he saw the familiar mop of hairs running towards him.

(Or as familiar as it could be, still with the change being there.)

He caught the boy as he jumped at him, wrapping his hands around the small body to feel the warm presence near his heart.

“Hey, sport.” He said, tightening the grip for a second, enjoying the brief moment of calmness before he put the boy down. “How was your school today?”

Galahad immediately lurched himself onto his palm, grabbing it like an anchor of a ship.

“Great! Damien and I were doing the Math exercise and then Sophia…”

Galahad’s story jumped left and right, high and low, changing the course at least three times. It was a feat to try to remain on track with everything that was leaving Galahad’s mouth, but Merlin tried his best to not let his mind get astray.

They walked, with Merlin listening to his son prattling happily about this class or that kid in the school, merrily recollecting what had happened today and the days before.

These short moments – smiling face, shining, blinking eyes, scrunched in joy nose – filled Merlin’s heart was warmness, spreading it around, letting the energy prance and dance around him, curling around his chest like foxes and coyotes during the cold night.

He listened and looked around, observing, cataloguing the surroundings. People walked around, passed them, brushed against their shoulders, slipped next to them.

It was a big crowd and they should have easily disappeared in it.

They should.

And yet there was a soft nudge of the energy, gripping his chin and letting his head tilt a little bit to the left, almost like it was pointing at something.

Merlin’s heart shattered.

There it was, the sensation, the darkness folding itself around the silhouette of a man. The man who was looking at them, curiously, judging, calculating.

Merlin felt a shiver run down his spine. His hand tightened the grip on the palm of his son as he walked forward, trying to move faster, but also to not look suspicious. The energy flowing through Merlin’s body floated down, moving towards Galahad’s face to hold it gently and make him only stare forward and not look around.

The boy immediately quieted, gripping his hand in response, interlacing two fingers to have a better grip.

Merlin could feel eyes on his back as he crossed the road, trying to hide behind a group of teenagers.

“Dad?” Galahad quietly asked and it was a miracle that in the noise and tumult he heard him.

“Don’t look around.” He whispered.

The boy obediently nodded, staring forward with focus and fear mixing, mingling on his face. The trepidation was there too, swimming across the skin, pushing and pulling the muscles.

The energy flowed back to him, watchfully glancing around, sensing the surroundings.

One here, two there, another one in front of them.

It didn’t look good. It didn’t feel right.

There was a bus stop in front of them, filled with people, and a slowly approaching bus behind.

“We’re going to take a detour.” Merlin said, trying to smile at the boy.

Galahad bopped his head.

They managed to sneak onto the bus, letting the door close swiftly and quickly behind them, preventing anyone from stepping inside. And if Merlin helped the door to stay open for three or four more seconds only for them, then no one needed to know that.

Another small movement, a nudge, a sensation he was sure he should know and remember, but couldn’t find it in his mind and memory, helped him to create a fake image of two bus passes.

The driver didn’t notice the difference. No one did.

Merlin tugged Galahad forward and they sat down on the seats on the side facing the road.

The boy shifted and curled into his body, hiding beneath the arm that Merlin had thrown across his shoulder.

He could hear and feel the boy’s heart thump rapidly in his body as the stress and nervousness took over the nerves.

It was going to be okay. Somehow.

He patted Galahad’s hair softly and kissed it as the bus brought them further into the city.

* * *

Arthur hummed to himself to the rhythm of some weird pop song that floated from the radio standing on the cupboard.

His hands methodically cleaned the dishes, getting rid of the dark spots from coffees or crumbles remaining after eaten cakes.

Gwen took over the pastry shop and cafe for a moment, so Arthur could rest a bit – which meant dealing with the responsibilities that didn’t need interacting with the customers. And he was okay with that.

It calmed him, in a weird way.

Apparently the calmness couldn’t stay for long, as the door to the back exit suddenly burst open and a giant silhouette stepped inside.

Arthur lifted his one eyebrow.

“Did you learn manners from Gwaine?” He asked.

The man turned to him and grinned wildly, holding two giant crates in both his hands. They looked incredibly heavy, but for the man it seemed like they weighed no more than two puppies or kittens.

“Arthur! Didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Where else am I supposed to be, Percival? I work here.”

He owned this place, but that was beside the point.

Percival beamed at him and put the two crates down, which let out a loud thud as they were met face to face with the floor. Heavy indeed.

“I know, but at this time you’re usually at the front.”

“Gwen took over for a moment, we had an incredibly busy morning and I needed a break.” Arthur said, whirling to the sink and turning off the water, which to this point had been still flowing over his hands, painting them in pinkish hues.

“Weird way to relax, but whatever swings your boat, man.” Percival patted the crates. “I brought you your supply.” Then he grabbed a device hanging on his neck. He pushed a few buttons which beeped tiredly. “And I need you to sign here.”

Arthur dried his hands on the dish cloth hanging on his shoulder, walked to Percival, grabbed the pen he was giving him and then wrote his own messy signature on the electronic screen. It looked more like scrawls than his actual name, but no one really paid attention to that.

“Thanks.” Percival nodded at him happily, letting the device hang on his neck. “And while I’m still here…”

From the glint in his eyes Arthur could already guess what the man wanted.

“Yes, we have your favourite jam doughnuts. We left some especially for you.”

Percival beamed at him, looking like a giddy teenager that was just asked to the prom by their crush.

Arthur moved towards an empty window in the wall, from which he could see the main part of the pastry shop, and leaned through it.

“Hey, Gwen, can you give me the doughnuts we packed? Percy is here.”

Gwen swished her head towards him, standing at the cash register where she was attending to a young man.

“In a second.”

As Arthur turned around, Percival had helped himself to a batch of fresh gingerbread cookies, which were cooling down on the counter, and now was huffing loudly as he definitely burned his mouth.

“Watch out, they’re still hot.”

Percival swallowed, letting the fresh tears appear in the corners of his eyes.

“Still worth it.”

Arthur decided to take that as a compliment, especially as these were the cookies he had made.

Percival grabbed another two cookies and started to throw them between his palms, trying to cool them down quicker.

“So how are you hanging?” He asked.

Arthur shrugged and returned to cleaning the dishes. The answer to this question was too elaborated, but Percival probably knew, even understood that.

“I’ve been better.” Arthur answered honestly and moved to another set of glasses. “Got a few more orders, so I’ve been quite busy nowadays.”

“That’s why you haven’t been answering any of Gwaine’s messages?”

Arthur halted in his movements, feeling the water splash across the glass surface and wet his shirt. There was a brief moment when he felt the whole world crashing down on him, suffocating, stealing all the oxygen from his lungs, pressure dropping and crushing every muscle and bone. There was a puncture, a sudden snapping sensation, a swirl of the cosmos expanding inside his chest.

And then, it all was gone. A blink, a second and he was okay, standing in the kitchen with hot water running down his hands.

“Maybe.” He finally murmured and resumed the washing.

It was repetitive, comforting, calming and familiar.

Percival shuffled, or maybe changed his position, leaning his hip on the counter and looking like a looming mountain in this small room.

“Well call him when you’ll have some free time. Don’t tell him I’ve told you this, but he is starting to get worried about you.”

If Gwaine was starting to get worried about him, then maybe the situation was way worse than it seemed.

Then, more quietly, Percival added:

“We all are.”

Arthur turned off the water.

“I’ll call him today.” He finally said, drying his hands with the dish cloth and turning to the man.

Percival grinned at him, not with the full smile he usually wore, but with a different one, a kind one, one that knew that not all was good, but at least something tilted towards the happiness.

“Well, better do that, if you don’t want to have Gwaine bursting into your house in the middle of the night.”

“I know, I remember the last time.”

Arthur shuddered. He also had had to change his door, because Gwaine literally had destroyed the lock. So yeah, he didn’t need the repeat of that.

Percival popped the cookies he had been holding into his mouth.

There was a movement and a box slid into the kitchen, with Gwen’s head peeking out from the window.

“Here you go.” She said and turned to the guest. “Hi Percival!”

The man waved at her softly.

“Hey to you too.”

Gwen pushed the box further.

“Sorry, one is a little bit crushed.”

“No worries, I’m sure it’ll still be tasty.” Percival said, grabbing the box and putting it under his arm.

“Well if not, you can blame Arthur. He was the one who destroyed it.” Gwen happily commented, crossing her hands on the counter.

“Hey!”

Percival snorted, what was followed by a small snicker from the girl herself.

“Well, I need to get going. Same time next week?”

Arthur nodded.

“Sure, if there will be any changes, I’ll call you.”

Percival swirled on his heel and marched toward the exit.

“Catch you all later. Say hi to Lance from me, Gwen.”

“Will do.”

And with that the man exited the kitchen, leaning his body forward to not hit his head on the doorframe.

Arthur snorted under his nose anyway when he still heard Percival hitting his forehead on the doorframe of the backdoor leading him outside.

Every time.

* * *

The sky was painted in dark hues and strokes, as they marched through the city with the hands clasped together and the faces hidden in the collars.

It was close to winter, with the temperature dropping down and the world turning dark earlier than usual. But it was good for them. It was easier to disappear in the darkness than in the broad daylight of the city.

Although the crispy air wasn’t helping their movements. Neither the energy inside him was pleased with the coldness.

Galahad obediently followed him, looking skittishly around, holding tightly onto his palm. He looked exhausted, after being thrown around by the stress and constant moving, running, escaping.

With a small nudge and a plead, the energy enveloped the small boy’s body, warming him a bit, curling around him like a blanket made of cosmic dust.

Merlin felt like they were walking for hours and still there was a trace behind them, a sudden silhouette appearing in the distance, looming across the horizon. He could feel the stress playing a cacophonic melody inside his lungs, squeezing them painfully.

They had to disappear. Somehow.

But how?

There was another short shove from his energy, pointing in a vague direction behind them.

Merlin didn’t have to look back to know that someone was on their tail.

There was something he could do, but it was a risky move. Yet he was running out of options and ideas.

(He had to get Galahad to safety. Take him out of the equation – the one that didn’t look like it could end well. He had to protect him.)

His breath stuttered inside his chest, as he felt his choices slip through his fingers, scatter across the pavement like tiny crystals, smash to pieces due to the passing time.

Galahad tripped and Merlin moved down to help stabilize the boy.

He had to do something. Before it would be too late.

There was a small push, a poke to his mind, a shift of his face, tilting it, sprinkling the golden dust across the air, showing a barely visible line. It was pointing towards a good hiding place, a safe place, a hideout.

Merlin trusted his gut feeling. And he trusted the energy inside of him, it had never failed him.

He tugged Galahad and disappeared in the alleyway near some loud cafe or bakery. He didn’t get a good look at it.

There were a lot of garbage cans and waste containers standing around, together with a delivery truck, although one of the smaller models. It didn’t look like the nicest of places, and his heart broke inside at the idea of what he was about to do. He didn’t want to, but he had no other options.

(At least this place looked moderately clean and it didn’t smell. Small mercies.)

Merlin tugged Galahad and pushed him behind the delivery truck, glancing back towards the street and pleading the power to conceal them for a moment.

“Dad, what are you-“

“Stay here. Hide. Don’t come out till I come back.” Merlin quickly whispered, glancing back and forth, feeling like someone was ripping his chest apart.

Galahad’s eyes widened and he immediately surged forward.

“No, dad, wait, you can’t-“

“Stay.” Merlin repeated himself, this time more sternly, hoping to hint on that parenting tone that always made Galahad obey. “I’ll be fine, but I need to be sure you’ll be safe first.”

It wasn’t the best hiding place, but he trusted his power.

Galahad didn’t look convinced and stared at him with the pleading eyes and trembling bottom lip.

“It’s going to be okay.” Merlin softly whispered, brushing away the fringe with one hand and leaning closer to plant a kiss on the boy’s forehead. ”Don’t come out. Don’t move from here. I will be back for you, I promise.”

His son still looked like he wanted to object, but Merlin was already moving away, losing the tight grip on the small fingers, immediately feeling the heat leaving his body.

Another silent plead and a part of the energy inside parted with him and curled around the boy, forming an invisible shield, hiding him from prying eyes, ones that wanted to harm.

Galahad looked up at him and opened his mouth, but Merlin lifted his hand and put one finger on his own lips.

He quickly peeked out of the alleyway, glanced at the name of the café or whatever shop was there, catalogued the name in his memory, together with the street name, and then waved his hand, conjuring an image next to him, one resembling the boy. For everyone it seemed like a real life person, but only he knew that it was only that, a mirage, a coldness that didn’t reach his heart.

He stepped out, turned and walked forward.

He had a plan.

* * *

Arthur’s days weren’t the most interesting things in the universe. On the contrary, they were quite boring. Beside work he didn’t do much in his daily life and even then, work took most of it.

That was the pain and fun of being the boss.

After finishing his shift, he had come back to his house, had sat down on the couch, had opened a laptop and simultaneously turned on a TV to have some background noises.

And in this position he had spent the next two hours.

Maybe there was some truth to Percival’s words.

He stood up from the couch, putting the laptop on the table first, and then stretched his hands above his shoulders, feeling the bones pop into places. Wow, okay, he definitely felt like an old man and he wasn’t even that old.

He still had dinner – spaghetti – from yesterday, so he decided to throw it into a microwave, instead of doing something new. Tomorrow he could do something else, maybe chicken, there was one in a freezer which needed to be eaten, because it would get bad soon.

The bowl burned his fingers, so he had to put it down for a moment. Then after a few seconds he decided to try it once again and then almost ran to the living room, feeling the heat seep into his skin.

Arthur sat down and let the bowl cool down a bit.

He munched on the dinner slowly, putting the laptop back with him on the sofa and surfing through the pages, scrolling from time to time down to read more.

It was perhaps a boring life, the one he had, but he liked it.

Well, almost liked. There had been bumps, ups and downs, sudden turnabouts, turns left and right, hesitations, but he really enjoyed what he was doing.

Although maybe Gwaine was right, maybe there was a spark of truth to what he was saying. He had been a little bit off nowadays, hiding in his home instead of going out with his friends or generally with someone.

(Not that there was someone.)

The fact was that he knew he was acting like that. And he simply couldn’t stop himself.

Another short swipe of the finger, another line of text and a photo appeared and still nadda, zero, null, zilch.

Apparently, the world was ending, if he admitted that Gwaine may be right about something.

(Although maybe the world ending wouldn’t be such a bad thing. At least it could be called an emergency. And the emergency that required magical assistance and help. And then, maybe, perhaps, he could see–)

Arthur sighed and closed the laptop.

He simply couldn’t understand it all. Arthur thought that after regaining his own memories and finding out from the Lady of the Lake that _he_ had waited almost one thousand and five hundred years for Arthur, _he_ would immediately appear at his doorsteps, maybe throw himself at Arthur, embracing in the long-awaited hug and then everything would be right.

Arthur had got his memories back. Everyone important to him had got them back.

And Merlin wasn’t here.

Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong.

He could understand a few days, months, depending on where Merlin had been, but not years. Years filled with waiting, looking, searching, asking, conversing and still with the same results.

Maybe he was angry with Arthur? Rightfully so. Arthur deserved it, after so much that Merlin had had to live through because of him, due to him. He deserved the cold shoulder for some time. But not such a long time.

It was simply not _Merlin_ to do it.

No, something had gone terribly wrong and Arthur was going to get to the bottom of it.

Having any clues would help, but he guessed he had to do it the hard way.

(The Lady of the Lake had told him as much as she had known herself. Arthur could see it in her eyes – how much she had wanted to help, but couldn’t.)

So this was what he was doing in his free time – searching for any clues. But to be fair, perhaps he needed some time off to clear his mind, reconnect with his friends who were as worried as he, people who understood him.

Yeah, maybe this would help, would put a fresh thought inside his head, would help him relax a bit.

Before Arthur could change his mind, he grabbed his phone and clicked the familiar name.

“Hey. Gwaine–“

* * *

Galahad was going to be fine, Merlin had to believe it.

He had ordered the power to help him, to protect and hide from anything that may want to harm the boy. And he trusted it, he knew it wouldn’t disobey or abandon him. As long as there was a protective coat around his son’s body, he was going to be fine.

Although the image he had put on Galahad already had faded. Keeping it up at such long distances was a feat and a difficult task, one on which he couldn’t focus right now.

(Normally he could do it, especially as Galahad’s own power helped him, but not right now.)

The part of the energy he had left behind would be sufficient to conceal the boy.

So now Merlin had to focus on disappearing on his own.

Easier said than done. Especially after what felt like the hundredth time.

Merlin felt his power nudge him, point in a correct direction, following a golden trail that shimmered and glimmered from time to time. He had tried every trick he had done until now, but they had outsmarted his every move.

They were learning.

But that was okay, he still had a few tricks under his sleeve. He would shake them off, at some point. Eventually.

Merlin turned and disappeared as he met the wall.

* * *

Arthur might have almost fallen asleep on the couch, if the phone didn’t suddenly buzz loudly.

Brushing away the dusty particles of sleep from his eyelashes with his hand, he grabbed the phone, that almost threatened to fall from the table, to swipe on the green icon and put it near his ear.

“Hello?” He slurred.

Yep, he was getting old.

“Mister Pendragon?” Asked a timid voice on the other side.

He knew that voice.

“Oh, hey Beatrice. Is everything alright?”

Was the pastry shop alright? Had something happened? Were they under attack? Was someone stealing something? Had there been a break in? Was someone threatening her with a knife?

(Arthur hadn’t held a sword in a lifetime, but he guessed he could still nick someone.)

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s okay, nothing wrong with the shop, but…” The woman on the other side said, prolonging the words hesitantly, nervously.

Arthur knew that tone.

“What is it, Beatrice?” He asked, sighing along the way and moving his one hand to brush away the fringe.

“It’s just…” The girl started and Arthur could almost see her in his mind bending her fingers in weird directions. “My last bus is in ten minutes.”

Was it so late already?

A quick glance at the clock told him that indeed it was already time to close the shop.

He groaned as he stood up, feeling the joints pop after waking up from an uncomfortable position he had had during the quick nap. Yep, he was getting old. Any day he would start going gray.

(Or he already had a few gray hairs, as Leon nicely had pointed out once and, of course, never again.)

“Okay, I’ll be down in a minute. What more needs to be done?”

“Just taking out the trash and locking all the doors. I’m sorry Mister Pendragon, I know I promised to not push it onto you–“

“No, it’s okay. I prefer for you to get home safely. I can take out the trash myself and lock the place. I live here anyway.”

“Thank you, Mister Pendragon, and I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, yeah, skitter off, before you’ll be late.”

Beatrice didn’t need to be told twice as she thanked him profusely and then hung up.

Arthur yawned as he put on better shoes on his feet and descended the stairs, hearing the door being shut as the girl probably already had ran out.

Well, it wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last one either. And he had spoken the truth, he preferred for his workers to get home safely. It wasn’t that they didn’t work well – they did, he could see the determination in their eyes and the hasty movements as they tried to please all the customers during the rush hours.

Besides, it was now Arthur’s shop, he wanted to take good care of it.

The light in the kitchen was still on, so Arthur directed his steps there.

Everything was cleaned – the surfaces were spotless, the dishes were dripping on the dryer, the coffee machines were unstained and turned off, but the trash definitely wasn’t taken out. But other than that, it all looked perfect.

Arthur took out the trash bag from the trash bin for plastic products and tied it. He did the same with paper wastes. Also the mixed ones. And he was surprised that the trash bin for metal wastes had to also be emptied.

He could do one trip, but then, he was still drowsy and old. So yeah, multiple trips it was.

He grabbed two bags and dragged them towards the back exit, lifting them above any obstacle to not accidentally rip them and scatter everything around.

He opened the door with his elbow and then pushed it forward with his hip, feeling the cold air of the evening hit him right in the face.

There was this crispy cold sensation of the autumn moving through the air, caressing the last leaves hanging on the branches, sneaking between the bricks, knocking on the windows and howling in the pipes.

Arthur exhaled softly, feeling the coldness on his skin waking him up a bit.

It wasn’t a busy street and it definitely wasn’t busy at this time so he enjoyed the silence as he walked towards the main bigger waste containers standing near the main road, ready to be taken away tomorrow by the garbage collectors.

A few hefty shoves and he put the bags inside.

Just how heavy plastic and paper can be? Apparently very much so. And his muscles did agree with this.

He exhaled slowly, brushing away the sweat from his forehead with his hand, when he heard a rustle coming from behind him. Or well from behind the delivery truck they kept there.

Had raccoons got into the trash again? It was a possibility. There were a ton of them living in the park nearby and they wandered here from time to time.

Well, Arthur still had other things to deal with before he could deal with the raccoons. Like taking out the remaining trash bags.

He returned to the kitchen and grabbed the rest, dragging it back outside, this time listening to the sounds surrounding him.

There was something, a quiet sound, a little sensation, just something in the air that was itching him the weird way. Not exactly the bad way, just off. Strange. Unnatural, yet familiar in its weird comforting touch.

No, that wasn’t possible, but… No.

Arthur stopped and glanced around when he heard another sound, this time a quieter one, but a little bit broken in the middle, one that cut through his chest and heart, slashing like a sword.

It was nothing, just his imagination.

He stepped closer to the waste containers, opened them and hoisted the bags to put them inside, repeating his movements from several minutes ago. Methodically. Rhythmically. He didn’t do it that often now, as he mostly worked morning shifts, but back when it had been just him and his mom, Arthur had done it quite often.

He glanced at the empty street and sighed, feeling the pull on his muscles.

It was a calm evening, night even, with the street lamps blinking above the heads, showing the way for the last pedestrians that were still walking around. But now the street was empty, allowing for the soft breeze to run around the buildings.

Arthur probably should head back, make himself some late supper and go to sleep. Yeah, that sounded like a splendid option right now. One he should follow.

He turned on his heel to stomp back towards the door when he heard the sound once again, a quiet rustle, a shift, a gasp or something resembling a sob perhaps and a whisper, clothes being moved, hands being tightened.

Arthur stopped moving and glanced around, only to direct his gaze at the delivery truck.

If he was really having raccoons again, then he was going to go insane. Getting rid of them last time had been a pain in the ass. Mostly because Gwen had got attached.

“Is anyone there?” He asked.

Kinda stupid of him, as raccoons couldn’t speak, but maybe, just maybe, there were no raccoons.

No one answered him, but at this point Arthur wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing.

Talking raccoons would be really terrifying.

Trying not to think further about it, he turned and reached with his hand towards the door handle when there was a brief sensation circling around his wrist, one that made his breath hitch and heart lurch, speeding up for a second, only to crash down.

It was a delicate touch, a soft stroke, a cuddly brush on his skin. Painfully familiar, yet with an echo of another world, another life, another past. It felt like fire dancing across his skin, making the hairs stand up, frizzling the nerves to life and making them sway and twitch. It was a warm and welcome, a bit skittish, but comforting and not threating feeling.

Arthur knew this feeling. He didn’t feel it in a pretty long time.

With his breath being lost somewhere inside his chest, he turned in the direction where the sudden sensation was pointing him at, lightly guiding forward.

Arthur couldn’t think for a moment, His mind was filled with images, sensations, moments, ideas and possibilities so bright and dark that he wasn’t sure whether to cry from joy or fear. Maybe a bit of both.

Because it was magic. It had to be. It felt familiar, like an old friend, hugging his wrist, protecting it and yet pulling forward, like it wanted to show him something.

And if Arthur’s past life had taught him anything, it was that he should trust it once in a while.

Slowly, quietly he creeped forward, keeping his steps light and steady, moving towards the nook between the delivery truck and the old trash bins he sometimes put in front of the shop when there was summer and he had additional tables outside.

It had been ages, if not more, since he had hunted last time, but a part of him still remembered it all. Years of training and practice couldn’t be washed away like sand after a tide wave. The memories were there, integrated in his mind somewhere, acting up when he needed them, even when his body wasn’t fully prepared for it.

(He got an additional pound or two here and there.)

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Some small part of Arthur expected to see his long lost friend, curled there and looking at him with fear and then recognition, but the other part knew it wasn’t plausible. No. Yet even when he glanced at the place, his heart still dropped.

There sat a boy, curled in on himself and looking like the whole world was breaking apart.

Arthur inhaled sharply and the sound sold him out, hissing as it moved through his teeth.

The boy snapped his head up and glanced at him, but probably saw only a dark silhouette due to the light shining behind Arthur, painting the front of him in inky hues.

There was a spasm of time, a small second filled with nothing and then everything burst to action.

The boy gasped and darted forward, crashing into Arthur’s legs and sending him back, not exactly falling on his butt, but certainly being close to it. A smart move, especially considering the small form of the unknown person, but he also hadn’t taken into account that Arthur had been a knight and even though he hadn’t held a sword in a long time, he still knew how to act and react.

So he made a swirl, pushing his hands back to stabilize himself. The maneuver cost him two seconds, seconds filled with the boy running away and the magic at his wrist almost screaming at him to move forward. What he did, hoping that his muscles didn’t forget about the hunt, about the sword-fighting, about the sudden need to run, and leaped forward, getting closer to the boy.

Arthur reached with his hand and grabbed the thin wrist, clasping his fingers around to hold, but not to hurt.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, I’m not trying to hurt you.” He started speaking, hoping to hint on a kind voice, but it was hard when he was probably a looming dangerous figure in the alleyway and the boy was scared.

Which proved to be right as the boy started to struggle and tried to rip his hand away.

“Hey, wait, you’re going to hurt yourself, calm down for a second, I only want to help.”

Arthur wondered if every attacker also said similar things at the beginning, but somehow that thought terrified him, so he pushed it away from his mind.

But he had to do something, before the boy would accidentally twist his wrist or something worse.

So he moved his other hand and grasped the other free hand.

Then there was a spark, the magic that had resided on his skin shifted, moved away, left Arthur’s body.

And the boy stopped struggling and suddenly snapped his head up, looking at him with wide eyes.

And only now Arthur could really see every detail, every small scar, every soft freckle, every dark lock of the curly hair, every thin wrinkle, but also the enormous ears and the big, green eyes, which looked back at him with recognition.

Arthur’s heart might actually crash down.

“The Golden King…” The boy whispered.

* * *

Something was wrong. Not bad wrong, but wrong nevertheless.

His energy, that part he had left with Galahad came back. But it didn’t come back screaming and shouting that the boy was in danger. No, it was content, happy, joyful, like it had done its task and now could rest, after a job well done.

Strange. Peculiar even. He couldn’t remember it ever doing that.

(But he trusted it and if it whispered that Galahad was safe, then he was safe.)

Merlin, on the contrary, wasn’t. He couldn’t rest yet.

He couldn’t shake the people off. They were likes wolves, feeling his heart pump the blood through his system. Persistent. Predatory. Moving swiftly through the shadows, reaching forward, almost grabbing his jacket, his elbow, his leg.

Merlin could play their game. He had to.

* * *

Well, everything about this situation screamed awkward at the top of its lungs.

Some part of Arthur still couldn’t understand how he had got himself into this situation. But somehow here he was, back in the kitchen of his pastry shop with the kid he had found outside sitting on a chair, nearby the open door.

Getting the boy inside had been a feat on its own. Arthur had had to be the one to step inside first, widely opening all doors and not getting closer than two meters to him. Only when Arthur had promised the kid that, he had nodded and finally had followed Arthur inside.

And here he was, sitting nearby the open door, backpack laying on his lap and phone clutched tightly in his hands.

Smart, he could run away any second if he wanted, while Arthur was sentenced to the other part of the kitchen.

Arthur leaned on the wall and stared at the small boy, who was looking at the ground, but hesitantly stealing a few glances in his direction from time to time.

This… definitely didn’t look good. Especially if police would suddenly burst through the door. Why would they do that? Arthur didn’t know, but it definitely looked like a good way to put him behind the bars.

He needed to calm down. There would be no police coming, at least not without him calling them first. He had to figure this one out. He could do that. Yeah, easy.

First, he had to find out who the kid was.

(And why was he so familiar?)

“Do you want something to drink?” Arthur suddenly asked, clearing his throat first and feeling that his voice didn’t sound like him.

The boy jumped, startled, and looked up at him with wide eyes, one leg moving towards the door.

Well, this was a good start.

Arthur stared at the boy and he stared back, but didn’t speak, didn’t even open his mouth to breathe.

Okay. So this was how it was going to be.

Arthur clasped his hands together, staring at the boy and clearly not knowing what to do. Move? Not move? Make the drink? Not make the drink? Breathe? Not breathe? He wasn’t that good with kids either. They never really clung to him. He could hold them and keep them occupied for a few minutes but that was all.

How old could the boy be? Nine? Ten? Eleven?

Feeling like the world’s fate was on his shoulders once again, Arthur moved to the cupboards above the coffee machines.

“How does hot choco sound?”

The boy, unsurprisingly, didn’t answer, but observed his every move, similar to a prey waiting to bolt, if the predator moved too close.

Okay, that was… super wrong.

(Arthur wasn’t a predator. At least not now. Especially not towards kids. Never towards kids.)

He sighed and decided to make the hot chocolate anyway. The kid looked like he needed it and frankly Arthur could drink some too. It felt like eons had passed since he had had a cup of it.

He took out a bag of hot chocolate mix from the cupboard and then took out two cups.

The boy observed him sternly, gauging every movement.

“See? I’m making a cup for myself too, so you know it’s not poisoned.” Arthur softly said, turning to look at the boy and hinting on a joking tone, accompanied by his smile.

The boy swallowed hard.

Well, it didn’t seem that his joke was well taken then. Okay, okay, he could deal with it. Somehow.

(Should he message Gwen to say that no matter what happens, he was not a pedophile? May be worth it, just in case.)

He dosed the hot choco with a bit of warm milk and then slid the cup on the surface closer to the boy so he could reach it, in the same time keeping his distance so Arthur would not be stepping into his personal bubble.

Arthur brought his own cup and sat on the other side of the kitchen.

That was quite a mess he got himself into.

There were two minutes filled with silence, not counting the clock ticking softly above their heads, showing the passing time. Then a car drove outside, tires screeching as it turned. A dog barked. A group of teenagers started to laugh loudly.

A calm evening. Or almost calm.

He took a sip, finding miniscule comfort in the sweet taste.

The boy glanced at him, slowly reached towards the cup and then grabbed it, sniffing it twice before taking a hesitant sip. Then he waited a minute or so, checking the time with the clock and then…

Almost downed the whole cup in one go.

Arthur blinked, taken aback by the sudden urgency to the boy’s movements, the soft, delicate but happy sounds of slurps and joyful hums that left the lips as he licked them clean after the cup was finished.

“Uh, you want another one?”

The boy snapped his head up, opened the mouth, closed and then sheepishly nodded.

This was at least something.

A few minutes later another cup was pushed towards the boy, when an idea popped into Arthur’s mind.

“Wait here, I’ll be back in a second.”

And with that Arthur pushed the door to the parlor with his hip and stepped inside.

Guided by the soft light coming from the kitchen from the square hole in the wall, he maneuvered around the room, approaching the shelves with the pastries and grabbing two choco croissants and two blueberry muffins. He put them on a plate he snatched from a cupboard and then moved back to the kitchen.

“You look really hungry. Hope this will help.”

And with that he slid the plate closer to the boy.

The kid stared at it, still holding his cup and licking his lips form time to time. There were signs of urgency and hesitation in the twitches of his hands and skitterish glances of the eyes, but other than that the boy didn’t move.

Arthur inhaled deeply.

“It’s not poisoned.”

The boy still didn’t move, but furrowed his eyebrows and wrinkled his nose. Clearly not believing him.

Arthur took a spoon he had used to pour the chocolate mix and took a piece of muffin with it, swallowing it in one bite. He did the same with the croissant, although it was a bit more problematic and left a trail of crumbs on the surface.

“See, not poisoned.” Arthur said after he swallowed the piece of croissant.

The boy observed him as he stepped back and when Arthur was far away, he snatched the plate and started to devour the food.

So yeah, Arthur felt like he had done a good thing.

In just a few minutes, the food was gone, except for the half of the croissant still being consumed by the kid.

“Do you want more food?” Arthur asked, leaning forward and clasping his hands together.

The boy glanced up and then slowly shook his head.

This was the second answer the kid had given him in the almost full hour he had spent here. It definitely was an improvement to the silent treatment.

(Which surprised him as at the beginning, when the kid had spoken, he had sounded almost pleased and eager, happy in some weird, crooked way.)

“Did you have dinner today?”

The boy stared at him, nibbled on the croissant and shook his head one more time.

Okay, so now the kid was on speaking terms. Or well, moving the head terms. So it was almost like speaking. They could have a full conversation.

And Arthur needed some answers right now.

“Okay, listen kid. You know I’m not a danger to you.” Arthur started, trying to speak in a soft and kind voice. “But it’s super late and I think I deserve some answers. Would you be inclined to give me some of them? Not all of them, if you don’t want to. Just whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

The boy looked at him and then, slowly, deliberately nodded.

Okay, it seemed that Arthur moved to the boy’s good side. Somehow.

“First of all, I don’t expect you to answer this, but I’m Arthur. Arthur Pendragon. Now you know my name, so if someone asks with whom you’ve been, you can tell them the truth.” Then like a second though he added. “Do you want to see my ID?”

A small shake of the head followed, which surprised him. He was almost one hundred percent sure that the boy would want to see one.

“Why not?”

The boy pointed at his apron, where his badge was hanging, crooked a bit, with the name and a photo glued to it. The photograph wasn’t the best, it was a few years old, but it was still him, there was no mistaking it.

Pretty clever.

“Okay, are you ready?”

A nod.

The interrogation could begin.

“Do you have any parents?”

Another nod, but a sad one. Not full. So most possibly one parent then. Or divorced.

“Do you have a home?”

A nod, although a little bit hesitant. Unsure.

“Do you want to return home?”

Another nod, but still a bit too slow. Uncertain.

Arthur didn’t like it. Not a bit. This smelled too much like an abuse. But the boy wasn’t covered in bruises. On the contrary, under the dirt of today, he was pretty clean, not neglected in any way. At least it didn’t look that way.

“Do you feel safe at home?”

The boy bit his lip, clearly not knowing how to answer. The eyes moved left and right, jumping around his knees.

Okay, okay, Arthur wasn’t sure if he should be dealing with it. Neither knew how. But he had to ask it. And if the answer would be positive, then he would have to call the police.

“Are you… abused and hurt at home?”

“No! Dad would never do anything to me!”

Arthur almost fell down as the sudden childish voice erupted from the pale lips.

The kid also looked surprised and quickly clasped his mouth shut, staring down at the ground.

Okay! This still pushed away the enormous weight from his shoulders. For a moment he had been afraid he had been met with a case of domestic violence.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m not insinuating anything.” Only he had been a few minutes ago. “So you are living with your dad?”

A nod – a tense one.

“But still you don’t want to go back home?”

A nod.

“Is your dad at home?”

A shake of the head. The first one during this investigation.

“Do you know where he is?”

A shake of the head.

This definitely didn’t look good.

“Did he leave you there?”

A nod.

Arthur fumed.

“But he will be back. He promised me. And he… he always keeps his promises.” The boy one more time spoke, gripping the material of his jeans.

“He still left you there.” Arthur said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“He had no choice.” The boy whispered.

“What?”

The boy became silent again.

But this was good, he was getting the boy to talk. Which was not a lot, but was still an improvement. And Arthur was happy with that.

Arthur lifted his hand and massaged his face. He could feel the headache slowly moving to the shore of his mind.

“Okay, let’s get back on track. So your dad, he said he will be back?”

A nod.

“But you don’t know when?”

A nod.

“Do you have any way of contacting him?”

A small, slow nod.

“Can you contact him?”

A shake.

“Why not?”

Shit, Arthur wanted to kick himself for asking the question which needed the words to form an answer. He knew he would do it at some point.

The boy, surprisingly, spoke again.

“I can’t. His phone could make a sound and they could find him.”

This… didn’t sound good. It all was starting to get incredibly dark.

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who would find him exactly?”

The boy looked at him and curled in on himself.

“Really bad people.” He whispered.

Arthur’s breath hitched, feeling the sudden shiver of his heart.

Yeah, this sounded really bad. Like something he shouldn’t be dealing with. No, he couldn’t deal with it. There were forces in the country that could deal with it. Not him. He had stopped dealing with it when he had left Camelot and had stopped being the king.

“Okay, no, that’s it, we need to call the police.” Arthur said, then stood up and took out the phone from his pocket to dial the number–

When a hand grabbed his sleeve, tugging on it harshly and almost making him lose the grip on his mobile.

“No, please, don’t! Don’t call the police!” The boy shrieked, tugging on the shirt, looking at him with pleading, scared eyes.

Arthur blinked, taken aback by the sudden movement and the fear clearly seeping from the eyes and the voice, with the waves of terror rippling through the body.

“Okay, okay, calm down, I won’t call them.” He quickly complied, looking down at the boy and trying to smile at him.

The boy didn’t look convinced.

Arthur huffed softly.

“Here, let me just put it down.”

The boy let him move the hand and put the phone on the counter, sliding it away from him. Only then the kid stepped back, curling back in on himself, but observing Arthur, although now a bit more relaxed.

It was an improvement. Not in the direction Arthur wanted, but it was something.

There was a brief, but dense pause after that.

The boy stayed on the chair, looking at him from time to time, but mostly staring at his own lap, gripping his trousers, letting the knuckles stretch the skin, painting it in pale streaks.

Arthur sat down too and put his face in his hands, feeling the weight of today evening rest on his shoulders, pushing them down towards the ground. There were shadows curling inside his head, whispering treacherous words behind the ears. The exhaustion started to play a cacophonic melody inside his head, clanging and ringing through the skull.

Arthur wasn’t sure what to do. He wished Gwen was here, she would know what to do.

Was it too late to call her? Probably. What time was it? Around ten pm. So pretty late. And they both had to wake up early tomorrow.

What to do, what to do?

Arthur massaged his eyes, gripping the bridge of his nose in the end.

“Listen, kid…”

“Galahad.”

“Bless you.” Only after a second Arthur’s mind processed the words. “Wait, what?”

The boy twitched on the chair.

“My name. It’s Galahad.” The kid slowly said, glancing at him from behind the dark fringe.

Arthur tried saying this name out loud in his head. It was definitely an uncommon one. But weirdly fitting. Historic, with a hint of pride. The parents definitely had been inspired by his legends, although he couldn’t remember ever meeting any Galahad in his life.

But in overall… his legends were weird.

Arthur smiled tiredly at the boy.

“Well it’s nice to meet you then, Galahad.”

The corners of Galahad’s mouth jerked in something resembling a sheepish smile. Familiar. Like he was seeing a ghost from the past, a shadow creeping behind a corner, a comet of a long forgotten star.

Arthur swallowed hard, feeling his heart skyrocketing inside his chest. He tried to quench these thoughts, these memories, these feelings, but no matter how hard he tried, they were still there. Persistent. Nagging. Hopeful.

He hadn’t felt this hope in a pretty long time.

Arthur looked up, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the knees.

“Hey, Galahad, can I ask you something?”

The boy stared at him in reply.

“Uh… it’s going to sound weird.” Well this whole evening was. “But when you saw me in the alleyway…” And when his whole world had turned upside down. “…you called me –“

There was a sudden draft, a warm, delicate touch of the wind on the cheek, a hesitant movement, just a sudden surge of something comforting and familiar that made Arthur’s heart stop for a second.

A long painful second.

Galahad’s eyes widened and he almost dropped the phone he was holding.

“He’s here.” The boy breathed out. “He’s coming back.”

Arthur looked at him, feeling the words getting lost somewhere inside his throat, walking around the maze of his lungs.

“Your dad?” He asked, just to be sure.

Galahad nodded quickly, slipping from the chair and putting the phone back in his pocket.

“Yes, yes, he is here. I felt it, I felt him. He is okay. I need to go. I need to see…”

“Wait!”

But the boy didn’t wait. He jumped out of the open door, towards the dark corridor, letting the black curls on the top of his head bounce with his every step.

Arthur cursed under his nose – he was finally allowed to do that – and followed the kid through the dark corridor, towards the back door, where Galahad was peeking out curiously, swinging back and forth on his heels. Looking, but not stepping outside just yet.

“You sure he is coming?” He asked, leaning above the boy and staring at the empty alleyway.

There was no one here at this hour.

“Yes, he’s coming, I can feel it.”

Well, that totally wasn’t strange or weird or creepy.

What had he got himself into?

They waited.

Arthur stared, feeling his heart beating rapidly in the chest, hammering and drumming, almost cacophonically, sending sparks and sudden pains through the nerves.

(He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up. He knew it only pushed him to a heartbreak. He knew that every time he had tried, something in him had sunk, pulling him down, toward the never ending ocean of blackness from which he had emerged. He had learned to control it, to not let it seize his body while promising to give something that couldn’t last.

Hoping against hope was a terrible feeling.)

Galahad balanced on his toes, peeking further and further away, when he suddenly shivered and jumped out.

“Dad!”

He was a blur of colors as he ran forward, moving swiftly through the darkness, disappearing from the light shimmering above the door as a shadow, a dark silhouette appeared around the corner.

“Dad!”

Small hands wrapped themselves around the shadow, gripping tightly and hiding the face in the folds of a shirt, almost pushing them both to the ground by the force of the embrace.

Thin hands moved through the air only to land on Galahad’s back.

“Hey, I’m here, I’m here.” Came a soft whisper.

Galahad only clung tighter.

The man then knelt down and grabbed the boy’s face, looking up at him and caressing softly the reddened cheeks.

Galahad stared back with adoration and the tears glistening in the corners of his eyes.

Arthur swallowed hard, stepping out, feeling the universe inside his chest disintegrating.

In the stillness of the night, his steps were loud as a dynamite, as a cannon going off on the sea, as a storm in the middle of a calm city.

The reaction was quick, unnaturally fast and immediate. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts, no time to think about the consequences. An impulse and a reaction.

Galahad was pushed behind the man’s back, hiding him from the view and putting the man in the front, closer to the danger.

“Who are you?” The man hissed.

Arthur quickly lifted his hands, making a small step back, showing that he was unarmed and not a danger.

“Hey, hey, calm down, I’m not an enemy.”

No reply, but a small step back followed, moving the pair away from Arthur.

He wanted to shout, to scream, to yell, to move forward and grab the wrists to prevent the man from moving back, to ask for some kind of an explanation, for the man to step into the light and to not destroy his heart for the hundredth time.

Arthur couldn’t ignore the tugging, the pulling, the stretching sensation in his heart, the gravitational force appearing between them.

(He shouldn’t hope, but god damn it.)

“Please.” Arthur whispered, begged.

The man didn’t budge for a second, but then opted on taking another step back, before a small tug stopped him.

Galahad looked up at the man, sparkling eyes shimmering in the darkness.

“Dad, stop, he is not the enemy. He helped me.”

The man glanced down at his son, but didn’t reply.

The boy furrowed his eyebrows, yanking stronger on the jacket.

“Dad, he is the Golden King. From my dreams.”

The eyes, blue like deep oceans, snapped back at him, a little bit widened, staring curiously at Arthur like he was some kind of specimen or a faraway dream.

Then there was a step forward, then another, initiated definitely by Galahad pushing the man forward, and another, and then one more and then…

Arthur’s heart stopped, crashed down, imploded and exploded, both in the same time, leaving only comets shimmering inside his chest on their treacherous way to the destruction.

“Who are you?” The man asked.

It was Merlin.

* * *

The man looked at him funnily. Merlin didn’t like it.

The man stared at him like he just hung every star on the sky just for him, he stared like he had longed and his prayers were finally answered, he stared like a man stranded finally seeing a ship after sending a message in a bottle.

The man stared at him like he knew Merlin a lifetime.

And Merlin couldn’t remember the blond haired man.

(Although there was a delicate thrum, a small, soft sensation inside his ribcage, a sudden melody played on the strings of his heart inside his caged chest. There was something inside of him that shouted and pleaded, but Merlin couldn’t distinguish the begs.)

Merlin tilted his head, staring at the perplexed face of the man, and repeated himself:

“Who are you?”

The man snapped shut his mouth and then cleared his throat, the emotions not disappearing from his eyes.

“I’m Arthur. Arthur Pendragon. I found… I found your son hiding behind the delivery truck near my pastry shop.” The man softly said, but his voice trembled.

Merlin lifted his eyebrow. It sounded like a truth. It sounded like it could be a possibility. It wasn’t giving him any off and weird signals, but still…

Galahad tugged on his jacket one more time, looking at him with these goddamn irresistible puppy eyes.

“You can trust him. He’s telling the truth.”

Merlin mulled over this, nibbling on his bottom lip and glancing back at the man.

He knew that Galahad was telling the truth, but he didn’t want to do that – trust that man. Trusting someone meant being put in danger or putting someone in danger, it meant sharing secrets and opening up. Merlin didn’t need to trust anyone right now.

“Come on, let’s find some place to sleep.” Merlin softly said, looking back down at his son and urging him towards the street.

“We’re not going back home?” The boy asked.

“No, I don’t think we should do it.”

Galahad’s lips wobbled, but he hung his head, moving his hand to grab Merlin’s one, holding tightly onto the fingers.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go there tomorrow to grab some stuff.”

He had to do it anyway. If they were lucky today, then the place wouldn’t be crawling with people with empty faces yet. But it was just a matter of time.

They had kept to their rules, so they should be fine.

Although their home wasn’t safe anymore. But it was a problem for tomorrow. Now he had to find some kind of hotel room so Galahad could sleep safely before tomorrow. Was there any homework that needed to be done? Merlin could make it. Galahad should sleep, he was just a kid and it wasn’t his fault that things had turned out the way they had done.

“Let’s get moving.” Merlin said and stepped onto the street.

Or he would have, if the voice didn’t stop him.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, feeling the prickling stress pushing all the wrong buttons inside his mind. He was exhausted, scared, irritated and the only thing he wanted to do was sleep, stop thinking about all that was trying to get him, just curl around his son and feel the soft heartbeat echo in his own bones.

“To find a place to sleep, what else does it look like?”

It probably looked like a lot of things, but Merlin was done with today.

If the whole world could just stop, he would be very much grateful. For just a few minutes.

The energy inside of him curled around his tired muscles, warming them and making walking a little bit easier. He was very grateful nevertheless for the small piece of help.

“You can just stay with me for this night.” The man, no, Arthur, he called himself Arthur, said urgently, stepping towards them.

“We’re fine. Thank you for taking care of my son, but we really have to go.”

Merlin moved forward, sparing only one glance back, toward the golden haired man, who was getting closer and closer.

“Wait!”

“Dad.”

Merlin wanted to get away, disappear under the quilt and pretend that everything in his life was fine. He just wanted to give Galahad a warm dinner, kiss him goodnight, see his eyes flutter close as sleep would encase his mind and then observe the slow and steady movements of his chest, proving to him that it all was worth it. He just wanted for Galahad to be safe.

He didn’t want much.

He just wanted to…

The world in front of him lurched, twisted, squeezed. Darks spots glimmered in the corners of his vision, forming constellations, inky stars on the faint canvas of the sky. It felt like the time stopped and pushed him forward, both in the same time. It felt like the Earth disappeared from beneath his feet for a moment, making him float in the space-time continuum.

He was there and he wasn’t. And that was a terrifying thought.

“Dad?”

It was Galahad, he was speaking to him, all soft and concerned voice.

Merlin didn’t want for his son to be worried about him. Merlin should be the one to worry about Galahad, brushing his nose when he was cold, putting on scarf in the winter, giving the last piece of cake, combing the hair softly as they boy fall asleep on the couch. Galahad should be carefree and lively and happy, not worried and sad. His voice should be hinted with joy and mirth, not panic and fear. Why did he sound so scared?

“Dad, please!”

Merlin blinked.

The world came back to him like a sudden punch to the face, not slow and steady, but in a rush that left him powerless and small, as it swallowed him whole.

The energy in him sizzled, almost angrily, perhaps scolding him for his stubborn behavior, nudging his muscles and bones, warming the skin, ruffling the hair in a familiar, comforting manner.

Galahad was in front of him, looking at him worriedly.

And he was... he was sitting, leaning on the cold wall with his head touching the bricks.

“Dad?” Galahad asked, reaching forward.

“I’m here.” Merlin murmured, trying to sound sure and strong, but finding out that this sentence came out like a crooked whisper.

Galahad exhaled and then looked to his left.

“What’s, what’s wrong with him?” He asked, letting the tremble accompany his voice.

There was someone next to them, touching his limbs gently, prying, checking, scanning, searching for something.

“There is nothing broken, so exhaustion, probably. Nothing a good night sleep can’t fix.” The voice said.

No, not the voice, Arthur said. He was still here. Why was he still here? Why was he so persistent? Couldn’t he leave them alone?

“I’m okay.”

“I wouldn’t call it okay.” Arthur added.

Merlin turned to him.

“What do you want? Why are you still here?” He asked.

He wanted to snap, feeling the anger inside his veins, but he was too tired.

The man, no, Arthur, blinked at that.

“I just want to help.” He said softly.

Merlin wanted to say that he didn’t need Arthur’s help, that he could do it all on his own, he had been doing it all on his own, he didn’t need anyone else, but Galahad. Yet he found out that his vocal chords didn’t exactly want to cooperate with him right now.

“Dad, please. Let him help.”

Galahad’s hand was warm against his skin, earnest and trustworthy, pleading, asking, but also knowing the outcome.

Part of Merlin wanted to fight, wanted to stomp his foot down and get away. They didn’t need anyone. They were fine on their own, just the two of them against the world.

But it was Galahad who was asking and he looked like he knew what he was saying. His dreams had probably a lot to do with it.

The energy in him thrummed at the name Galahad had spoken, the one that now was glued to his mind, shimmering and almost laughing in joy, like it knew it, like it remembered it, but it was impossible. Merlin didn’t recognize the face next to him, the curious, stormy, blue eyes, shimmering like a lighthouse and a halo made of gold around the face.

But Merlin trusted this power, it never deceived him, it never let him down. Neither had Galahad.

Merlin inhaled deeply.

“Okay. Just one night.”

Arthur grinned at him and then clasped his hand, helping him get back to his feet.

Merlin ignored the shivers running down his spine.

* * *

Arthur had to calm down, he had to. If he kept breathing like someone was chasing him, then he would faint soon, and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t do it. Not right now.

Because this was really happening. It was the reality.

Merlin, or well, someone who looked and sounded and acted like him, was here. But it was the real Merlin. Arthur could feel it. It couldn’t be a mistake. It couldn’t be an accident. He was really here, alive and well.

Or… almost well.

There was still a tired limp to Merlin’s movements after the whole scene, when Arthur’s heart had stopped for a moment, when he had been so terrified that he had lost him the second time.

But Merlin was alive and was following Arthur to his home, holding Galahad close, like he wanted to hide him from the world, protect from the danger and angry shadows that lurked in the corners.

Arthur stepped into the corridor and flicked the light on, seeing his hand tremble as he did so.

Merlin and Galahad stopped outside, with the man staring at him with distrust, but obediently stepped in after Arthur moved from the doorway.

“My home is upstairs.” He said, trying to smile encouragingly.

Merlin stared impassively.

Galahad’s lips twitched in something resembling a guilty smile.

Well, Arthur was out of his comfort zone.

“Can I… lock the door? I don’t exactly want to spend the night with the door open.”

Merlin stared at the door he had just passed and then moved away, making place for Arthur to step closer and then lock it.

The sound of the lock sliding into place echoed in the empty corridor.

“Okay, let me just turn off the light in the kitchen and then we can go upstairs.”

No answer.

Arthur went to the kitchen, put the two cups and the plate in the sink, deciding on cleaning it in the morning, then turned off the light and stepped back into the corridor.

Merlin and Galahad didn’t move.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Arthur was the first one to climb the staircase, grabbing the handle to the door to his flat and pushing it down. He quickly stepped inside, opening the door fully so his guests could enter freely too.

Merlin and Galahad stepped inside with the man wrinkling his nose at the smells probably finally hitting his nose.

That probably would be the spaghetti from yesterday.

“You can make yourself at home, no worries.” Arthur quickly said, stepping behind the pair and closing the door, also immediately reaching towards the lock, but deciding against it.

Merlin had seized up after one lock had clicked into place. Arthur wasn’t sure what he would do after seeing another door bolted. They were probably safe with only one locked door. The neighborhood wasn’t dangerous, but no one could ever know for sure what could happen.

There had been a break–in four months ago at a shop nearby.

Arthur took off his shoes, noticing that Merlin and Galahad did the same after a second.

The boy leaned on Merlin and definitely had some troubles with getting the sneakers off. Finally they landed in weird positions on the floor, crooked and tilted, but the boy quickly corrected them, so they could stand in an almost perfect line. Then Galahad turned and smiled at Merlin.

This was the first honest smile Arthur saw on the boy’s face.

The jackets then were the next ones to be taken off.

Arthur hadn’t brought any, as he only had expected to roam around the shop.

Galahad gripped the bottom of the blouse he was wearing and, after putting the backpack on the ground, he took it off in one swift movement, making his shirt ride up a little.

Merlin quickly corrected the shirt and then grabbed the blouse to add it to the hook where he had put his denim jacket.

And now that they were all inside, ready to step further into the house, Arthur wasn’t sure what to do.

When he had thought about finding Merlin before, he had imagined it a little bit different. In his mind there had been more happiness crashing down like falling stars, more hugs that later on would be denied, but then also would be safely locked inside his memories, more excited tears that would streak down Merlin’s face, more familiar tugs of mouths, forming full grins like crescent moons, more stories that would be shared between them in the comfortable companionship, accompanied by the feelings hidden inside the cups of alcohol.

This was not what he had imagined and had hoped would happen. But it was the reality. Merlin was here and this was what mattered.

Although Arthur wouldn’t mind some kind of a plan, list of rules and laws he should obey in this situation.

He clasped his hands together nervously.

“Here, let me show you around.”

The trip wasn’t long, especially as his flat wasn’t that big. There was the living room, connected with the kitchen with only a long table dividing these both rooms. Arthur’s laptop was still on the couch, turned on, and the TV was still going on, currently showing some ads. There was also a small balcony above the pastry shop, hidden behind a glass door.

(Gwaine loved to step out there for a smoke and call random people on the street.)

In the corridor, connected with the living room, there were two bedrooms – one belonging to Arthur, messy and untidy since the morning. He only let his guests spare it a quick glance, embarrassed by what was inside.

The guest room was tidier, although there was a thin layer of dust collecting on the surfaces. Arthur didn’t clean in here in a few weeks. Not many people used it nowadays, only his friends whenever they came over and were too lazy or too drunk to get back home.

(Last one was probably Elyan who had been using the bed. Arthur should probably change the bedding.)

Then there was also a small bathroom, with a toilet, a sink, and a tiny bathtub that could barely fit him.

And voilà, that was the end of his flat.

Arthur ended his tour back in the living room.

“And that is all.” He said, not really sure what he should be saying. “You will be staying in the guest room, if you can share the bed. If not, I can sleep on the couch so one of you can–“

“One bed is fine.” Merlin said.

It was his first sentence spoken out loud inside the building.

Most of the tour Merlin had spent looking around, checking small corners and looking out of the windows. Almost like he had been checking for something, some kind of a trap or a monster, ready to jump out and swallow them whole.

“Great. I will change the bedding for you.”

“No, you don’t have–“

“No, no, it’s okay. You can use the kitchen in the meantime, make something to drink or eat for yourselves.”

And with that Arthur ran to hide himself in the guest room. He couldn’t stay there for too long, as he felt his heart and mind breaking into hundred pieces.

He left the door pried open, in case the guests would need anything. He doubted they would, they didn’t seem like they needed much, but there was always a possibility.

Arthur wasn’t sure whether he would want them to call him or not.

In the emptiness of the room he could finally breathe freely, letting go of the stress and nerves that had held him captive since the moment he had seen Galahad behind the car. He wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand he wanted to do everything he could to not let Merlin go and on the other he wanted to be as nice as possible to show that he wasn’t the enemy, that they shouldn’t fear him. It was like a terrible juggling game, but there were no apples, only knives, swirling in the air, getting too close to the skin with their blades from time to time.

Arthur had no plan. He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to make a wrong turn, a wrong step somewhere and make Merlin jump out of the door in the speed of light, disappearing in the golden dust.

It was like playing with fire and Arthur quickly had found out how easy it was to get burn.

At least it didn’t seem like he was the enemy in Galahad’s eyes. That was something.

After a few minutes, when he had got rid of the old bedding, he started to hear sounds coming from the kitchen, similar to opening and closing cupboards, moving drawers and scraping of chairs on the floor. Then quiet talks followed.

Arthur put on fresh bedding, spreading the quilt on the bed. It was big enough to be comfortable for two people, especially if one was a kid. Then followed the pillows and voilà, the bed was made.

Kinda too fast for Arthur to find his inner peace, but something told him that he wouldn’t get it today.

But that was fine. It was fine. It was going to be fine.

Arthur inhaled deeply, staring at the empty bedroom that soon would be filled with two souls, and then exited the room.

Merlin was snooping through the cupboards, staring curiously at what was inside of them.

Galahad was sitting on one chair and scrolling through his phone. His shoulders were slumped and he looked way too relaxed to be sitting in an unknown place after a day like today. But weirdly he didn’t look like he cared. Maybe the fact that Merlin was here was giving him support, making him feel braver.

When Arthur stepped inside the living room, Merlin closed quickly and loudly the cupboard.

“There are only spices in this one. If you want something you better search through the ones on your right. And the fridge.” Arthur said, hoping to hint on a joking tone.

Merlin, unsurprisingly, didn’t answer him. Just stared back.

But perhaps, in the end, no answer was needed, because Merlin’s stomach growled rather abruptly and loudly in the stillness of the room, accompanied only by the sounds coming from the TV.

Enough was enough.

“Okay, I think that answers any more of my future questions. I’m making some sandwiches. For all of us.” Arthur said and moved to the cupboards hanging in the middle, taking out a sandwich toaster from it. Then he blinked, holding the device in the air. “Okay I lied. I need some answers. Any allergies? Something you don’t like?”

Galahad lifted his head and shook it.

“No, we’re fine with everything.” Merlin finally slowly said.

It felt like Merlin was weighing his words, thinking whether he was using the proper ones, trying to block all the ones that could sell some information. He was guarded, protective, clearly trying to gauge Arthur, check how much he could say.

Although the curious gaze was a little unnerving, so Arthur said:

“You can make some tea, if you want to be useful.”

Merlin nodded at that and started to move around the kitchen. He clearly had seen enough, because he found the cups only after the second try, but he immediately knew where tea was.

They worked in silence, even though Arthur deeply wanted to fill it with questions and answers. Why was Merlin not reacting to him? Why was he acting so cautious? From whom he was running away? How Galahad had appeared in the world? Did he not remember anything? What was Avalon’s greatest need?

He had so many questions and no answers.

The first batch of sandwiches with cheese, tomatoes and pickles was finished and pushed towards Galahad, together with a cup of warm tea. The second one Arthur gave to Merlin, who thanked him quietly and the third one was for him.

They sat together at the table, with their cups of tea, and munched on their food in silence.

Arthur rolled over a thousand ideas inside his head. Should he call Gwen now? It was pretty late and she was probably already asleep with Lancelot next to her. He knew he had to tell her, he didn’t plan on hiding who was sitting next to him, but what could he even say if he decided to call today? Plus what if Merlin would hear him and decide that he wouldn’t want to spend the night here? No, that was too dangerous. He could wait till tomorrow. He had to. Gwen would probably demand to see Merlin immediately. Hell, she would even drag Lancelot and Elyan with her, who would bring Percival, so also Gwaine and Leon would tag along.

And that… that could be a disaster.

No, he had to wait until tomorrow. They had waited for so long, surely they can wait a day more.

“Do you have any homework?”

Arthur blinked a few times, finally noticing the soft voice next to him.

Galahad lifted his head and shook it.

“No, I finished everything a few days ago. There is an essay I need to finish for the day after tomorrow though.”

“I’ll grab your laptop tomorrow then.”

Galahad opened his mouth, glanced at Arthur and then closed it.

Soon they were all finished.

Arthur looked at them.

“Do you want to take a shower?” He asked.

Galahad nodded at that.

“Shower would be nice.” He even added.

Arthur couldn’t blame him. He had spent some hours sitting behind the delivery truck and trash bins. Even though they were empty, they weren’t that nice smelling.

“I could try to find some clothes for you and I can throw your current ones into the washing machine. They should be dry for tomorrow.”

And if not, it wasn’t anything that hair dryer couldn’t deal with.

Arthur stood up when Galahad’s eyes sparkled with mirth as he nodded.

“Okay, let me grab some clothes for you then.”

He decided Merlin wanted a set of clothes too. The ones he wore now were drenched in sweat.

Finding clothes for Merlin wasn’t difficult. They were the same height and okay, maybe Merlin was a little bit on the lanky and thin side, and Arthur had gained a few pounds, so the clothes would hang on Merlin, but it was something. Galahad was the more problematic one. Arthur managed to dig out the smallest of his clothes, but he was afraid the boy would still swim in these.

It was better than nothing.

Might as well put on his own pajamas as he was already in his room. He fished out a shirt and a tracksuit bottom to wear to bed. They were comfy and nice enough for him to walk around the house and then sleep in them. Plus he liked the shirt. Leon had given it to him a few years ago.

(Back when they both still hadn’t remembered.)

“Come, I’ll show you how to use the shower.”

Both guests walked into the bathroom with him and Arthur quickly explained how it all worked. It wasn’t too complicated, but it had a few strange tweaks about it.

With a fresh towel and the clean clothes in hand, Galahad closed himself in the bathroom.

Arthur returned to the living room.

Merlin stood in the corridor for some time, observing the door to the bathroom like he expected to hear a shout or a shriek coming from behind it.

(Like he was ready for black tendrils to appear form beneath the door and swallow the entrance whole, locking the boy inside, away from Merlin for all eternity.)

When the sink started running, Merlin bit his lip, turned around, walked slowly forward and sat back in the chair he had occupied before.

Arthur grabbed the laptop and moved to the kitchen too.

The silence between them was deafening, incredibly dense and thick like tar, making it almost unable to breathe freely. It had never been like that between them. Their calm times had been always filled with voices, conversations, laughter or whispers. The silence only had appeared when either of them had been angry or sad or had had to focus on something, but even then it hadn’t been that dense.

Arthur opened one tab on the laptop, only to close it and open another one a second later. He didn’t have anything to do on the computer to be fair. He just needed an excuse to sit close to Merlin without looking suspicious.

The water ran freely in the bathroom.

“Why are you doing it?” Merlin suddenly asked.

Arthur, not expecting it, almost fell off the chair.

“What? Using laptop? Actually–”

Merlin huffed.

“I meant helping us. Why are you helping us?”

Merlin looked at him intensely, staring into his eyes, awaiting the words that would leave the lips.

Arthur knew why he was doing it, but sharing the truth wouldn’t help him right now. So he had to cut it or show the other side of it, one that was bearable.

“Because it’s the right thing to do?” Arthur answered, prolonging the words in the way that made him sound kinda prattish and lifting his one eyebrow to further on point out the idiocy of the question, which wasn’t stupid at all.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, because every person would offer a night at home for random people they met on the street.”

“They should, the world would be a better place then.”

“This is how killers get their preys.” Merlin added.

Arthur shrugged and then opened another random, empty tab.

“Just don’t leave any blood stains on the carpet. They would be a bitch to get rid of.”

That at least got a positive response as Merlin snorted under his nose, clasping both of his hands around the cup of tea.

Arthur’s mouth twitched, not being able to not respond to that clear and sweet show of familiar emotion.

“Nothing hydrogen peroxide, lemon juice or baking soda couldn’t deal with.”

Okay, this made Arthur snort playfully, feeling a spark inside his heart, a sun reflecting on the armor during the warm days.

“Do I want to know from where you know it?” Arthur asked, glancing up for a moment.

Merlin pointed with his head towards the bathroom.

“He actually told me.”

“Galahad?” Arthur said and immediately bit his tongue.

Shit, stupid mistake.

Merlin frowned at that, pinched his pale lips in an even tighter line and then grasped tighter the cup.

It seemed that another layer had been added to the barrier around Merlin. A second after Arthur had started to tear it down, brick by brick.

“Yes, Galahad.”

Merlin was clearly unhappy with Arthur knowing Galahad’s name, especially when Merlin himself still didn’t give his own name to Arthur. He didn’t trust him. And even though it was a logical thing to do, he still could give Arthur a fake name and be done with it. But no, Merlin remained secretive and quiet.

“He’s a smart kid.” Arthur said after a while, trying to get back on the good side.

How he had managed to do it in his past life he wasn’t sure. He had had a ton of luck back then probably. Because now it seemed impossible to do. Almost as impossible as taking the Excalibur out of the stone. That had been easy in comparison to this.

Merlin sighed, but didn’t drop the barrier.

“Yes, he is.” Then after a second he added. “Incredibly stubborn too.”

“Well you know, they say that stubbornness can be inherited.”

Merlin glanced up.

“Are you insinuating something?” He inquired, with a hint of levity at the end, a mockery dressed in a comforting, sweet, but joking tone.

Familiar, painfully so, and yet so different.

“Nothing at all. Just pointing out the similarity of your ears.”

“Hey!”

It was okay, that was okay. This was getting him somewhere. This was showing him all the familiar reactions and known smirks and comforting glances and intimate furrows of eyebrows.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“You’re kind of a prat.”

Arthur’s heart broke, crashed, crumpled down like it was cut by a sword.

“Well, it’s not a nice thing to say to the person who helps you.” He almost whined, but tried to wrap the words with a little bit of anger.

Merlin glanced up at him with that impish smile.

“And yet, it’s the truth nevertheless.”

Arthur huffed exasperatedly and was already opening his mouth to retort something back, when the door to the bathroom opened and Galahad stepped out.

And indeed, he was swimming in Arthur’s clothes.

“The bathroom is free.” He stated.

Arthur glanced at Merlin.

“Do you want to use it?”

“If you don’t mind.” Merlin nodded.

The clinging clothes definitely had to be troublesome and uncomfortable.

“Let me get you a fresh towel.” Arthur nodded.

With a new towel and clean, borrowed clothes it was Merlin’s turn to disappear in the bathroom, leaving Galahad and Arthur to fend for themselves.

To be honest, spending time with Galahad was less stressful than spending time with Merlin. And wasn’t that surprising.

Arthur still could remember those good old times, spent in his own chambers with Merlin tottering around and him trying to write a speech. It had been an everyday life rhythm, comforting and dear, yet bizarre with Merlin pointing out the mistakes in the writing or Arthur passing a cup of wine to his servant. There had been just the two of them, no barriers or walls between.

And now Arthur felt like he didn’t know Merlin at all. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe the life he had lived had sculpted him into something different, a statuette of a man he once had been, but now it was broken, barely holding the parts together. There was so much to unpack, so many shattered, small pieces to glue back together, that Arthur wasn’t even sure where to start.

“Don’t worry about him. Dad is always like that with people he doesn’t know.”

Arthur shook his head, trying to get back from the lake of his thoughts onto the shore of the consciousness.

“Hm?” He intelligently said.

Galahad pointed with his head towards the bathroom, from which they could hear running water.

“My dad. He doesn’t like strangers.”

“I’ve noticed.” Arthur admitted with a small smile, tilting his head in that way he hoped said a thousand words.

Galahad apparently understood what he had meant, because he blushed a little. One hand moved to his face where he brushed his cheeks, like this movement could get rid of the color that was residing there.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It was very smart of you.”

Galahad blushed harder and more furiously brushed his cheeks.

Arthur laughed at that.

It was weird, peculiar even. To sit here, in his house with a small kid that was apparently Merlin’s son and the man himself taking the shower just a few paces away. Strange, but not unwelcomed.

The tornado of the questions inside his head was swirling, twisting, spiraling and whirling, leaving everything inside his mind a mess, a clatter of stars running across the sky. There was so much he didn’t know, so much he wanted to understand, but for the first time in a pretty long time he weirdly felt happy, content, like he had made a good step in the wanted direction.

They could deal with it. They always had done that. Why would this time be any different?

Arthur tilted his head, as he glanced at Galahad who played with his phone.

“Do you want Wi-Fi password?” He asked.

Galahad glanced up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Yes, please.”

After the password was passed and Galahad managed to connect to the internet on his phone, the smile he received in return blinded Arthur.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

They both occupied their time sitting on their respective devices. And this time Arthur did open some sites, mostly because he wasn’t sure what else to do. It was already pretty late, way after the time he usually fell asleep on the couch or in his bed. But then he didn’t want to miss anything, any precious minutes spent with Merlin actually, really being here.

After a few minutes the shower stopped and then Merlin stepped out, hair unruly and still wet and cheeks blazing red due to the heat that steamed out of the bathroom.

(Arthur was right, the clothes hung on him. And no, it wasn’t because Arthur had gained a few pounds, he always was a little bit more muscular than lanky Merlin.)

“Did you put the clothes in the washing machine?”

Merlin turned to him and nodded.

Arthur stood up.

“Okay, let me set it on the quick wash. The clothes should be washed in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” Merlin murmured and then turned to the boy. “Come on Galahad, you need to go to sleep. You have school tomorrow.”

The boy glanced at his dad and it seemed like he bit his tongue in time before he said something. He slipped off the chair and then walked forward to grab Merlin’s palm.

“Good night, mister.” Galahad said, looking at him.

“Good night, kiddo.” Arthur replied.

Merlin pressed his lips in a tight line, but didn’t comment. Only moved swiftly through the corridor towards the guest room.

A little bit rude, but kinda expected.

Arthur walked into the bathroom that seemed like a dragon cave with so much fog spiraling around.

Okay, someone here definitely preferred warmness to cold, refreshing showers.

The clothes were indeed already put in the washing machine, but then it was counterproductive to turn it on with so little inside, so Arthur decided to add several of his own clothes. He was supposed to do the washing soon, may as well do it now. He took out a few pieces of clothing from inside the laundry basket, then added the detergent and turned on the washing machine.

Here was the ex-king of Camelot, using washing machine. Brilliant in all his soapy glory.

Arthur went out and glanced around the suddenly empty house. Might as well start cleaning around. He would be a bit drowsy tomorrow, but at least his house would be clean for the morning.

He was shuffling towards the living room, when bits and pieces of a conversation caught his attention.

“Why are you so unkind to him?” Galahad quietly asked.

Arthur stopped breathing for a moment.

“I’m not unkind.” Merlin replied.

“You are, more so than usual when you meet someone new.”

“It’s not true. I held a normal conversation with him.”

There was a sound of rustling, like someone moved the curtains to hide the light that definitely would be sneaking inside the room in the morning.

“Dad.” Galahad said.

This time no reply came from Merlin’s side, only quiet steps across the floor.

“Is it because he is the Golden King?”

One more time this name. What were they talking about? He never had heard this one before today. The King of Camelot? Yes. The Once and Future King? Definitely. The King of Albion? Also that. The King of Prats? On a few occasions. But the Golden King was new.

Merlin sighed.

“Get in the bed, Galahad. It’s late.”

There was a sound of shuffling and susurration like someone slipped under the quilt.

“But it’s true. It is him.” Galahad quietly added, from behind the closed door.

“I believe you.”

“Then why are you acting like that?”

Another short pause, stillness that could tear down cities.

“Maybe the fact that he’s the Golden King simply scares me.”

Arthur felt like his heart lurched forward, knocked and crashed on his chest, making his breath hitch, squeeze and then combust, disappear after a good hit with a mace without an armor protecting it.

Galahad sniffed.

“That makes no sense.”

“I bet it doesn’t.”

Another set of rustling ships on the ocean from quilt.

“Sweet dreams.”

“G’night, dad.”

The sound of a kiss followed Arthur as he stepped away and quickly, but quietly, moved towards the living room to at least pretend that he hadn’t heard it all.

He couldn’t exactly control his hands, which trembled rapidly as he stacked the newspapers and magazines that had been scattered across the coffee table. He also grabbed the old cup of coffee and the bowl of spaghetti, that still remained there, and turned around to bring them to the kitchen, when a silhouette standing in the corridor made him jump.

“Oh shit, I thought you went to sleep.” Arthur said in lieu of explanation to his almost shriek that he definitely hadn’t let out.

“No, still here.” Merlin mumbled back, standing there, in Arthur’s clothes and looking really out of place.

Arthur swallowed hard and then looked up at the ceiling. What should he do? Should he say something? Merlin didn’t look like he wanted to talk. Every Arthur’s previous attempt at conversation had been thwarted and had ended in silence. Why now should be any different?

With nothing better to do, Arthur turned on his heel and moved with his dirty dishes towards the kitchen.

“Let me help you.” Merlin suddenly said and almost appeared next to him, taking the dishes from his hands.

“You don’t have to do it. I can manage.” Arthur quickly stated, trying to move away and not lose the grip he still had on the bowl and cup.

“No, let me do it.” Merlin insisted.

“Really, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

And who was Arthur to say _no_ to that determined face? If Merlin wanted to clean Arthur’s dirty dishes, then he was free to do that. He had done it before, long, long time ago.

Also, wasn’t that a weird change, from almost no speaking to holding something that resembled a bit a normal conversation. Maybe Merlin did feel bad that he had treated Arthur coldly. Or maybe Galahad had pushed something inside of him, let some walls crumble with a simple touch, perhaps a spell for a soul. Yeah, that could be it.

“Okay.” Arthur breathed out.

He let go of the dishes and decided to clean the rest of the kitchen – put the tomatoes and pickles back in the fridge, hide the toast bread in the cupboard and then swipe the crumbs away from the sandwich toaster, only to put it in its rightful place.

Merlin worked in silence, methodically scrubbing the cups from coffee and tea marks, getting rid of the stains of oil on the plates and disintegrating the once tomato sauce in the bowl with hot water and a dish soap. There was a crease on his forehead, one that Arthur knew well, one that showed that he was deep in his thoughts, thinking intensively about something, something that was utterly complicated and, more possibly than not, without any good way out.

Arthur never had liked this look. But right now he doubted Merlin would share his thoughts with him. Now more than ever.

The washing machine peeped, which signaled the end of the program, so Arthur went there to grab the clothes and put them on the clothes dryer rack standing in the corridor.

The unfamiliar clothes looked out of place in the row next to his own laundry, one that lived here the good portion of their life.

Arthur stared at them for a second too long probably.

“Thank you.”

Arthur snapped his head up.

“For what?” He asked, feeling his heart rattling inside his ribcage.

Merlin was done with the washing and now was standing awkwardly in the living room, eons, light-years away and yet closer to Arthur than in the last thousand and five hundred years.

“For letting us stay the night here, for the food, for allowing us to take a shower, for the clothes.”

For _helping_ was left unsaid, but Arthur nevertheless understood the meaning.

He leaned down to grab another piece of clothing to put on the rack.

“It’s not a problem.” He sniffed, trying to hide how much those simple words made him ache all over inside.

“But it is.” Merlin insisted, scrunching his nose in that confused old habit.

“Not for me.” Arthur said and then bit his tongue.

Merlin turned the deep, blue eyes back at him, staring intensively, suspiciously, but with a hint of interest like Arthur was a weird specimen and Merlin tried to understand him all from the inside out. He stared like he could read Arthur, like he could know and see his every feeling and emotion that he had hid under his skin.

Then Merlin shook his head, scattering around the too long, curly, black strands on the pale forehead, and glanced back up at him.

“Can I help you more somehow?”

Arthur hung his shirt.

“No, don’t worry, I’m going to sleep after finishing this.” Arthur said, pointing at the small pile of wet clothes. “You should too, it’s really late.”

The man nodded, then walked forward, moving towards the closed door of the guest room and opened it with a quiet creak.

Arthur turned to the drying rack, trying to calm his wildly beating heart, when the voice came back again, destroying everything that he had started to tidy and build inside his mind, chest and heart.

“Merlin.”

Arthur snapped his head back up so quickly that he almost could hear something in his neck cracking. This would hurt in the morning.

“Pardon?” He murmured, blinking and hoping and praying and needing–

Merlin licked his lips hesitantly.

“My name. It’s Merlin.”

“Oh.” Arthur breathed out, feeling the tremors inside his body, the earthquake that wanted to swallow him whole, the tsunami of emotions trying to break loose.

“You know, like the wizard from the Arthurian legends.” Merlin added, almost smiling to him with that playful and yet tired glint in his blue eyes.

Arthur snorted loudly, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing in, trying to control the whirlpool of memories striving to make him kneel and bend his head to bare the neck.

“I bet some people can’t let the opportunity slip?”

“Don’t you know all about it?” Merlin quipped, looking at him with mirth dancing in the corners of his uplifted lips.

Arthur smiled under his nose. He had been the butt of jokes way before he had remembered that he was indeed the real and true Arthur Pendragon. The number of times someone had made those jokes was bigger than Gwaine’s ego and it was enormous.

“I do know all about that.” Arthur admitted, smiling to Merlin.

The male stared back at him, some strange, unknown emotion flicking in these deep eyes and smiling lips. It was a skittish feeling, hesitant, almost embarrassed, but also kind and warm – a soft touch of familiarity in the dark wood, a delicate caress of the fire during the cold nights, a comforting scent of leather in the morning.

Arthur stared back, seeing and feeling like he could do it for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough to believe that Merlin was really here.

Merlin finally cleared his throat when Arthur literally didn’t move for fifteen seconds.

“I’ll be going to sleep then.”

“Okay.”

Merlin nodded at that and then opened his mouth one more time.

“Good night, Arthur.”

“Good night, Merlin.” Arthur whispered back.

And with that his long lost and finally found friend disappeared in the guest room.

Arthur finished hanging the clothes and then moved towards the kitchen to turn off the laptop and switch off the lights, when it all hit him. The whole _today_ crashed into his body, took his breath away, slashed his muscles, pierced his bones and turned his mind to golden dust. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, but suddenly it felt like there was no free space, that there were too many emotions, feelings, memories, questions, possibilities, hopes, fears and dreams inside his body to bear it all.

Merlin was here. He was really here. His body and soul and heart were really here. Years and years of searching, of checking, of looking, of gathering information, of sleepless nights and aching mornings, of dreams and nightmares, of hopes and despair, of wanting, of needing came down to this.

The weight of it all crashed down on him and he had no energy to keep his body upright. So Arthur slumped on the kitchen chair and hid his face in his hands.

What should he do from now on?

_“Take me back in time to love you_

_Take me back when we were lost_

_Lost in love and lost in feeling_

_Without the cost.”_

_– Jeff Blim_

**Author's Note:**

> Finally finished this xD!
> 
> Actually I have like a whole fanfiction planned, but I am too tired to really focus on a full-length story. But I don't really close any doors on this story.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it <3!


End file.
